


Once and Never Again

by MayCSB



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayCSB/pseuds/MayCSB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random one-shots I wrote for the amazing Thenewsroomprompts on Tumblr. More will be added as I write them. Feel free to send your own prompts. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flowers in Your Hair

Prompt: Will and Mac are having a baby boy and have promised their daughter she can name him. 

Title: Flowers in Your Hair

——

It’s March 14th, 2021 when Will walks into Mac’s hospital room. Ellie is holding on to his hand as obediently as she never did before, her bright yellow rain boots tapping against the hallway floor, chocolate curls bouncing softly against her back. She had her fifth birthday only a few weeks prior, but her newly found, half a decade old independence is not lost in their lives. She’s demanding like Will and impulsive like Mac, forming a dangerous cocktail of personality traits that could scare the bravest of soldiers. She picked out her outfit the day before: a light green tutu, a t-shirt with an Einstein picture and E=mc² written under it – a gift from Sloan – and the brightest yellow rain boots money could buy. She was quite the sight in the maternity ward at Mount Sinai. She runs towards Mac’s room as soon as she can spot its number – 1, like the amount of noses she has; 8, like the amount of years mummy and daddy have been married; and 2, like the number of teddy bears she sleeps with – opening the door and bolting inside.

“Mummy!” She shouts, wrapping her arms around Mac’s side sloppily. “Where is he?”

“Hello, sweetie.” Mac smiles, doing her best to hug Eleanor without opening her stitches “He’s coming over in just a little bit. Where’s daddy?”

“He was walking soooooo slow!”

“SlowLY.” Mac corrects, emphasizing the last two letters “Did you have a good night with aunt Sloan and uncle Don?”

“Yes. Uncle Don read me Tom Tit Tot before bed, and Aunt Sloan made banana toast for breakfast.” She told Mac, scrunching up her face “It wasn’t very good. But I didn’t tell her, I promise!”

“That’s my girl.” Mac chuckled, ruffling the little girl’s hair. If she was being honest to herself – and five hours after giving birth seemed like the right time to do so – she liked them better like this. Walking, talking, potty-trained. She likes babies – she would not have had another one if she did not – but she likes them better when they have stopped drooling.

Will walks inside the room just a few moments after she reflects on that, and scoops Eleanor into his arms. She’s incredibly happy – no, she’s ecstatic – that he was the one she chose. It doesn’t matter if he’s sitting in front of a camera reporting on the latest occurrences in South Sudan, at home flipping pancakes, or there, in that hospital room, with their daughter in his arms, looking at her just like he did all those years ago.

“Hey.” He smiles at her, a mixture of pride and happiness seeping through his voice. She remembers that voice, remembers that face. She remembers it from when she gave birth to Eleanor, remembers it from when they celebrated five years of marriage, remembers it from when Maggie – after battling depression for years – delivered the story that won her a Peabody. It’s the voice of a man who can still find the strength to go on, the wisdom to teach, despite all the obstacles thrown in his way throughout his life.

“Billy.” She calls, and it’s almost a whisper. He’s there. It doesn’t matter how long it has been, how many things they’ve been through, she’s still amazed at how he always manages to be her rock. “They’re bringing him in a little bit.”

“Mummy, I already chose the name.” Eleanor announces, from Will’s arms.

“Oh.” Mac sighs. She couldn’t believe Ellie had remembered. It was an empty promise, really. Go to bed right now and you get to choose your brother’s name. She didn’t mean it, and she didn’t think Eleanor would remember.

“Ellie, I think we should talk…”

“Jack William McAvoy.” She spoke, as loud as her lungs allowed without screaming.

It was a rather surprising choice. They were waiting something like Cookie-Monster McAvoy or Quasimodo McAvoy, but they certainly weren’t expecting something quite so… fitting.

“Jack as in Jack and the Beanstalk.” She explained “And William, like daddy.”

“I like it.” Will says, taking a seat in the chair across the room. “It’s very strong.”

“Jack William McAvoy.” Mac repeated, “I like it too.”

They fall into comfortable silence for the few minutes before the nurse comes in. She’s a very short blonde woman, and hurries inside the room with the cot. He’s bundled up in a thick blue blanket inside it, and he looks just like Eleanor. Will holds Eleanor’s shoulders before she smothers the little boy with her overly excited spirit, and smiles at the crib. He’s such a handsome young lad, he thinks.

“Hello, you lot!” the nurse says, rolling the cot over until it’s close to Mac’s bed “He’s ready to feed, Mrs. McAvoy.”

“Thank you.” Mac says. She watches as the nurse lifts the baby from his cot, and takes him from her as carefully as she can. “Hello.” She smiles “Eleanor, sweetie. Come meet your brother.” She calls, and Will leads Ellie to Mac’s side.

“Hello, Jack. I am your big sister, so you have to do what I say.” She tells him, and the adults in the room laugh. “You’re Jack William McAvoy. Welcome to the world.”


	2. The Rose and The Lilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don meets Sloan's mum.

Prompt: Sloan introduces Don to her parents.

Title: The Rose and The Lilly  
——-

April 13th, 2013  
Ushiwakamaru, Greenwich Village, Manhattan, New York  
6:38 p.m.  
She is so tiny. She’s maybe a metre and a half, perhaps a few centimetres shorter than that, and very skinny. Her hair is much like Sloan’s: short, black and very silky, cut in a respectable bob. Her eyes scour the room around her, but she settles on the itamae, crossing her legs as she scrutinizes his every move. He’s never been so nervous. Not when he dumped NewsNight for Right Now, not when he first asked Sloan out after the kiss, not when they went to court, ever. He’d dealt with an angry Will McAvoy, a crazy Sloan Sabbith, a delusional D.C. producer and countless violent guests, but the puny Japanese woman sitting five feet away from him was too much.  
Sorry, emergency at Mac and Will’s. Wedding planning sucks. I'll be a few minutes late, I'm sorry. Tell my mum I had to go see a man about a dog, no details.  
Ps. GET THERE ON TIME. Nothing my mum hates more than tardiness.  
Ps. II. I see the irony. Do not fuck with me, Keefer.  
Sloan had texted earlier – about fifteen minutes, in fact – which prompted him to show up twenty minutes early to a seven o’clock dinner date. And there he stood, a bouquet of white and pink lilies in hand, staring at Sloan’s mum, unsure of how to proceed. Was she going to wonder why he was so early? Was she going to be upset because Sloan was taking too long to show up? It hardly mattered. After all, it was a rather coward move to stand there and hope Sloan makes it in time. So he finally gathers the courage to go and introduce himself, adjusting his tie with one hand and clutching the bouquet with the other, dithering legs and racing mind.  
“Mrs. Sabbith?” He called, standing a few centimetres from her “Don Keefer.”  
“Don, hello.” She responds, eying him. “Lovely meeting you. Please call me Setsuke.”  
He moves to sit on the stool next to her, accommodating before passing her the bouquet.  
“These are for you. Sloan mentioned lilies are your favourites.” He tells her, as she examines the bouquet.  
It’s a pretty arrangement. 50/50 proportion of whites and pinks, and a few specks of tiny yellow flowers in between. He bought it last minute, yes, but he did put some thought into the gift.  
“Thank you, Don. They are lovely.” She says, placing it in front of her “Where is Sloan?”  
“Oh, she asked me to say she’s very sorry, but two of our friends are planning a wedding and she’s the maid of honour, so she had to handle some sort of crisis.”  
Setsuke nodded at him. This was going okay, he reflected. She’s not screaming or throwing sushi – in hindsight, he doesn’t recall why he thought she’d be bonkers. Projecting Sloan’s behaviour, perhaps – and she didn’t seem to care too deeply that Sloan was late.  
“Don, Sloan tells me you’re an executive producer.” She says, with a smile “Tell me about it.”  
“It’s a rollercoaster. Never boring.” He tells her “I have the opportunity to work with incredible, brilliant people and do a job I love, so I’m quite fond of it.”  
“Seems exciting. I read about the lawsuit on the paper, however. I take that was one of the low points on the rollercoaster?”  
“That was, yes.” He chuckles “a producer sued us for a mistake he made, and…”  
“I want to ask you a question, Don.”  
“Alright.” He says, interrupting his train of speech “Go ahead.”  
“What do you want?”  
“Sorry?”  
“Out of your relationship. What do you want?” she repeats the question, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward “Sloan is an extremely intelligent woman, but a rather pauper judge of character. She’s been hurt far too many times, and I want to know if you’re planning on making that happen again.”  
“No, Mrs. Sabbith, uhm, Setsuke, I have no intention of ever hurting Sloan. Not ever. I love her.” He says, and Setsuke is not the only one taken aback. He is rather surprised too.  
And so is Sloan. Because somehow, for some reason, she reached them at the exact moment he uttered those words. Shit, what timing.  
“What?”  
“What?”  
“What?”  
They all asked, milliseconds as interval. He hadn’t told her before. Perhaps because the opportunity had not arisen, perhaps because he didn’t want to say it first, or maybe – most probably – because he didn’t quite understand the feeling before.  
He had never been in love, of that he was sure. He cared deeply for Maggie, surely, but that was hardly love. He had crushes, and girlfriends, and even a girl he considered proposing to, but he had never, not once, been in love. Not until Sloan came along, that is.  
He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment in time he fell in love with her. In fact, years later, he’d tell you it wasn’t a fixed moment in time, but a collection of moments and days, and months and years, and that he never did stop falling in love with Sloan. He never could.  
“I love you too.” She said, giving his hand a light squeeze.  
One could say that was the beginning of their relationship. One would be wrong. Relationships don’t have beginnings. Relationships have marks, important and unimportant ones, and that was one of the important ones. That moment marked a promise, a dream, some hope. That was their mark in space, and it was never forgotten.


	3. Ashes Through Ashes

Prompt: Will and Mac entertain guests from the office after they bring their new baby home from the hospital.

Title: Ashes Through Ashes  
————

“Sloan, Don, hey!” Mac greets. She’s tired, dead tired, and her voice doesn’t hide the fact. Ash doesn’t sleep well, the late-night feedings exhaust her, she misses work, misses her friends, misses feeling like a person. This visit, as insane and rushed as it may seem, grants her a tiny sheaf of normalcy – one she desperately needs – and she is so grateful that they took the time to come and visit.

“Hey. How’s the boy?” Sloan asks, hurrying past Mac and into the living room, scouring the room for any sign of either Ash or Will.

“He’s good. The proud owner of the most powerful set of four-day lungs to date.” She responds, closing the door behind a visibly uncomfortable Don. He looks stiff, she notices, and has both his hands in his jacket pockets. He looks almost startled. “What’s wrong, Don?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He answers quickly.

“He doesn’t like babies.” Sloan interjects, placing her purse and carefully wrapped gift on the couch.

“That’s not true.” Don says, “I just don’t have a lot of experience with them, that’s all.”

Mac giggles. She missed them. They’d visited while she was on bed rest, but she never felt like she was seeing them quite enough. Sloan had visited her at the hospital when the baby was born, but she hadn’t seen Don is nearly a month. Not Don, Charlie or Jim, who chickened-out of the maternity ward visit.

“It’s okay, I don’t either.” Mac assures him, just as Will walks into the room. His blue sweater has a large drool stain on it, and his grey jeans pose a risk to health and safety. His hair is disheveled, blonde strands messy on the top of his head. He’s a mess. They both are.

“Is Ashcroft asleep?” Sloan questions, taking the gift from the couch “I brought him that.”

“Don’t call him that…” Will nearly begs, taking the gift from her.

“It’s his name!” she argues.

Mac leads Don to the couch and sits next to him, eying Will in the process.

“Yes, but it’s just a formality. We agreed to call him Ash. You don’t call me William, there’s no need to call him Ashcroft.” He says, taking a seat opposite Don and Mac.

“Well, William, I like the name. It’s very distinguished.” She mocks, also taking a seat.

“Whatever suits your fancy, Sloan. I won’t win this discussion anyway.” He drops the present onto his lap, and undoes the baby blue bow atop the box “what is it that you got him?” 

“It’s a Soroban.” She answers, helping him unwrap the rest of the gift. “A Japanese abacus. That kid is bound for Harvard economics, class of 2035.”

“Good to know.” Will says, passing Mac the Soroban “What do you think, hon? Ashcroft William McAvoy, chairman of the Federal Reserve?”

“I can see that happening.” She laughs, taking the wooden apparatus “So guys, tell us. How’s the newsroom?”

“Smooth sailing so far.” Don answers “You guys need to come back soon, though. Everyone misses you.”

“Well, I’ll be back in a week.” Will tells them “But Mac will be home for a bit longer.”

“How much longer?” Sloan asks.

“About a month.” Mac answers. A cry interrupts the conversation shortly after she does so, Ash’s soft sobs echoing through the apartment. “I guess that’s my cue.”

“Oh no, can I?” Sloan asks, giving Mac her best puppy dog eyes “Please?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You want to go in there and sooth my wailing infant while I sit here and have a normal conversation with actual adults. God Sloan, what a terrible offer.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

“I am.”

Sloan grins at her and leaves the room, walking down the dim hallway and into Ash’s nursery. She’s positively sure she’s never heard anyone – anything – be as loud as Ash is at that exact moment. She pushes the grey plush blanket off his tiny body, and lowers herself to pick him up. He’s light, very much so, and very warm. She brought his tiny body close to her chest, humming the sound of ‘Carry on my Wayward Son’. She always liked that song – and it was the one in her head at the moment – and she hoped it would do his nerves some good.

“Shh. Ashcroft, calm down.” She pleaded, interrupting the humming. “You know, you’re a lot like your parents. Loud, but lithe, and very handsome. I like your parents. I’m not very good with people, you’ll be told that as soon as you’re able to understand what that means, but your parents never make it hard for me. They’re very good people, Ashcroft. You’ll be told that too. Morons with money, both of them, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll teach you all about antitrust acts and glasnost and how military spending is a waste of taxpayers’ money, and you’ll be the smartest five year old on the globe.”

Ash’s wails had ceased, and he was now staring at her, bright blue eyes glued on her face, dancing through her features, his tiny mouth forming an o-shaped ring.

“Yeah, you will. Come on, let’s go back and scare uncle Don.”

Sloan walks back to the living room carefully, watching her every step along the way. He’s so frail, she thinks, and so precious. The walk is short, and she reaches the group in less than ten seconds.

“Great job soothing him, sis.” Will compliments, motioning for her to sit back on her chair.

She looks over at him and smiles, briefly glancing at Don before sitting down.

“Thanks. Hey, you know what I was thinking?”

“Me and Don should start breeding.” Will does his best Sloan impression, complete with hand movements and hair tossing.

She looks at Don nervously, then moves her gaze back to Ash. “No. I was thinking tomorrow is your one-year anniversary.”

Mac and Will look at each other, both going through dates and facts in their heads.

“Oh. Wow. It really is.” Mac says “One year ago, a seedy chapel in Vegas, Jim, Charlie, you guys and a very drunken Maggie, we got married. God, the reception. What happened there?”

“What didn’t?” Don retorts.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year.” Will reflects “And I can’t believe I forgot. God Mac, I’m so sorry, it’s just been so crazy…”

“Don’t even start, Billy. We both forgot.” She says “And for a reason.” She tells him, looking at Ash. “I think there’s something more important than our anniversary right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Anyway, please do comment and kudo and whatever else you desire to do, and drop me a message if there's anything you wish to add. Thanks!


End file.
